


The Type

by joss80



Category: NCIS
Genre: First Kiss, Friendship, M/M, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 08:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2460983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joss80/pseuds/joss80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the end scene during last night's episode 12x05 Choke Hold, where we learn that Tony has a "type." This is a Tibbs take on things :) (it's not necessary to have watched the episode)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Type

“IKEA, DiNozzo?” Gibbs asked with a frown and raised eyebrows, as he picked up his end of the heavy box and started walking backwards into Tony’s apartment building.

Tony’s grin appeared to be firmly plastered in place as he wiggled his eyebrows across the length of the box at Gibbs. “Hey, if it looks good and all it takes is my putting it together, then why not?”

“But… IKEA?” Gibbs asked again, sounding more exasperated this time. “I could have built you something like this. You just had to ask.”

They entered the elevator, shuffling around until both the two of them and the box fit in okay, and Tony let his hand dart out quickly to push the button for his floor before it took the weight of the box again.

“Where’s the fun in that, Gibbs?” he asked perkily, undeterred by Gibbs’ lack of enthusiasm. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I can manage it myself from here,” he continued, as the elevator opened and they set the box down outside his door.

“And let you make sense of those hieroglyphic instructions by yourself, with something you already spent two hundred dollars on? I don’t think so.”

Tony straightened up to his full height and leaned in slightly towards Gibbs. There was a sudden palpable tension in the air as Tony’s green eyes bored into Gibbs’ blue ones, and then there was a knowing smirk on Tony’s face as he turned to the side to unlock the door.

“You forgot to mention the weird hexagon-shaped twisty screwdriver thingy, Mister Fix-It.”

The door swung open and Tony and Gibbs hefted up the box again and carried it through the entranceway, and Tony kicked it closed before they turned into his bedroom. They set the box on the floor next to the new queen-size mattress, and Tony stretched out as he straightened up.

“Besides,” Tony continued, “Making a bed for someone is kind of personal.”

Gibbs stared blankly across the space at him. “So?”

“So….” Tony drifted off, not really having anything further to follow-up with. He put his hands on his hips and let out a loud sigh.

“So you’re letting me put an IKEA frame together with you _instead_ , in your _bedroom_? Because that’s _not_ personal?” A small smirk played at the corner of Gibbs’ mouth as he watched Tony trying not to squirm.

“Ah, you may have a point there,” he eventually conceded. Then his hands fell from his hips and the grin was back on his face. “But maybe I can teach _you_ something about putting furniture together. You know, the Swedish way.” Tony reached for the box-cutter on top of his dresser, and crouched down to start opening the box.

“Trust me, Tony, those little wooden pegs don’t exactly pose a challenge to me.” Gibbs’ low, droll voice rang through the sparsely-decorated room, and he let his head turn as he surveyed it. When he turned back, Tony was only a foot away from him and holding up a clear baggie filled with the aforementioned pegs, weird hexagon-shaped twisty screwdriver thingy, a myriad of screws and washers, and some ominous-looking black things that purportedly would hold the whole thing together.

“Oh yeah?” Tony raised an eyebrow at Gibbs, and pulled another screwdriver out of his back jeans pocket. “Let’s get to work, then.”

Gibbs let out a low laugh, which turned into a chuckle, and he grabbed the screwdriver and plastic bag out of Tony’s hands.

“You’re awfully feisty today,” he observed, as he ripped open the bag and set it on the floor alongside the wooden pieces of bed frame.

“This isn’t work, Gibbs,” Tony stated with a smile, as he moved a piece of the frame so that is was perpendicular to another piece. “Equal ground here. So yeah, I’m feisty.”

Gibbs didn’t respond, and after a minute Tony raised his head to look at the man. He saw Gibbs smiling to himself as he read through the vague instruction booklet, which put a smile on Tony’s own face as he turned back to the wooden frame.

“You’re feisty too.” The words from Tony were quiet, almost a whisper across the few feet between them and both men’s eyes rose to meet each other’s at the same time. Their gaze held for a few seconds before Gibbs broke it at picked up a piece of what would become the headboard. He turned the wood over in his hands and seemed to examine it as he spoke.

“I give as good as I get, Tony, you know that.” He paused, and then looked up suddenly in surprise at a realization. “Do you _like_ fighting with me?”

Tony didn’t bother to turn away as his face flushed slightly, but he did purse his lips and scrunch up his face as if something particularly unpleasant was going on inside him.

“I have a _type_ ,” he mumbled, his words coming out in a strained groan.

“A what?” Gibbs wasn’t moving anymore, his eyes zeroing in on Tony’s as the younger man stood up and tried to look anywhere but at Gibbs.

“You know what, it’s okay, really,” Tony said, drawing himself up to his full height again and plastering a fake smile on his face. “It’s probably easier if I just put this thing together. More room to work if it’s just me. But thanks so much for your –”

Gibbs’ index finger poked Tony in the middle of his chest and pushed, pushed until Tony stumbled backwards and ended up with his body firmly planted against the bedroom wall.

“A _type?_ ” Gibbs’ voice was low and rough, and he kept his finger firmly in place even as the rest of his body crowded closer to Tony. “As in, a _type_ type?”

“I, er…,” Tony hedged, and then he let his gaze fall to somewhere near the neckline of Gibbs’ t-shirt. “I like it when people fight back. You know, verbally, not fisticuffs,” he clarified.

“Are we talking mentally? This does it for you mentally?” Gibbs asked, his finger still pushing at Tony’s sternum.

“Y-yes,” Tony stuttered. “Intellectually stimulating.”

“How about emotionally? How does it make you feel?” Gibbs persisted, as the pressure of his finger lessened somewhat.

“Good, Boss. It feels good.”

“Not your Boss right now, Tony, remember? Your rules.”

“Gibbs. Good, Gibbs,” Tony breathed out, his face gathering more color once again as the man’s finger pressed again and dragged a few inches down his chest.

“Physically?” Gibbs ground out, as he lifted his hand completely away from Tony’s body.

Tony’s eyes snapped up to meet his, and the younger man blinked hard once, twice.

“Don’t do this, Gibbs,” he pleaded, his voice achingly soft in the silence of the room.

Gibbs tilted his head slightly to the side as if considering the situation, and then he brought his index finger up again to curve through a belt loop on the side of Tony’s jeans.

“ _Physically?_ ” His voice was warm as he leaned forward and murmured against Tony’s ear, and Tony seemed to both tense and relax at the same time beneath him. A loud sigh of something that sounded like defeat, of giving up and giving in, followed. Then Tony drew in a deep breath.

“It turns me on.” 

The words swirled in the space between them, the admission almost too much for the two of them to process as Gibbs let his body lean into Tony and he rested his head on Tony’s shoulder. It was the older man’s turn to sigh out as his other hand rose up to latch onto a belt loop on the far side of Tony’s body.

“So, all of what you just said… about _me?_ ”

The slow and slight nod of Tony’s head was almost imperceptible against the side of Gibbs’, but the older man must have felt it because he drew back to look Tony squarely in the eyes once more and then he leaned forward to press cautious lips against Tony’s. Everything was absolutely still for a few seconds, a pause in time, until Tony lifted a hand to curve around the back of Gibbs’ neck and moved his lips ever-so-slightly against Gibbs’ dry ones.

Gibbs pulled back a few moments later, sighed another loud sigh, and rested his forehead against Tony’s.

“Still your _type_?” he asked, his voice filled with hope and barely-hidden desire. 

“Oh yeah.” And then Tony was the one pushing forward, initiating, letting his tongue flick against Gibbs’ lips until they opened. Gibbs had Tony’s back against the wall once more a minute later, pressing the length of his body against Tony as if his life depended on it. 

He broke the kiss with a groan. “We should definitely put the bed frame together, ASAP.”

Tony gave him a suggestive wink and whispered at his ear. “On it, Boss.”


End file.
